I was inspired recently to revisit a book I began reading a few years ago and never finished.  I bought it because Gwyneth Paltrow wrote the forward (and I love Gwyneth Paltrow) and the book was supposedly about weight loss.  Something I was struggling with at the time.

It isn’t about weight loss at all.  I mean, it is.  But it isn’t.  And I will confess that I never finished it.  But the ideas within it I carry with me every day.  Because the book is about … um, enlightenment.  Sort of.  I’m struggling to properly articulate what Dr. Sadeghi writes about.  Because it all sounds cheesy.  And yet, to me, the book is so far from actually being cheesy I really don’t want to do it a disservice.  So I’ll use Dr. Sadeghi’s words — the book is about self love.

When I began my job a month ago, my District Sales Coordinator handed me (and everyone on our team) a book called “The Energy Bus.”  I happen to love books like that, so I was looking forward to cracking it open.  But before I had a chance, she and I talked about it.  And I heard myself talking about Dr. Sadeghi’s principles with such conviction I knew I had to go back and finish “Within.”  (**As I read both books, I am in awe of how similar many of their ideas are — just presented in slightly different ways and in different contexts.  It makes me smile.)  

I don’t know that I have always tried to evolve as I’ve grown but I think, looking back, it happened without my conscious awareness of it.  John (the hubs) always teases me that early every year I go through my “Self Help” phase.  I find a book and read it cover to cover in a matter of days and then try to apply principles and new practices to my (and John’s!) life.  I find comfort in it.  Trying to be more aware, trying to be better.  Trying to understand life & myself more.  I loved so many ideas in Dr. Sadeghi’s book (y’know, the part I read).  He talks about self love, yes, but he also talks about energy and the power of our mind & heart.

When you have an incurable disease like mine (or maybe any struggle, really) there’s a different perspective about health.  Or, to be more precise, wellness.  And more and more, I read articles about the power of positivity in the workplace, in life, in healing.  Its pretty profound.  And I can say from personal experience that where my mind is at very much affects my physical wellness.  My first neurologist handed me information on four different drug therapies when I received my MS diagnosis.  He told me to read about each one, and come back and tell him which medicine I wanted to take.  He said he didn’t like picking medicines for MS patients because he believed that if I believed in the medicine there was a greater chance of it being successful.  In retrospect, that was exceptionally powerful and has (clearly) stayed with me. And the medicine I picked did work.  It just had rough side effects. The therapy I am on now my current neurologist prescribed to me three times before I went in and had my first infusion.  And I only went in after sitting in an office with him for hours debating the pros and cons, discussing the potential health risks.  I left believing it was the best option for me and would work.  And it has.

I guess what I’m getting at, in a very fractured manner, is that I have deep faith and belief in the power of our thoughts.  Being positive and optimistic are part of the battle.  Every day. I can physically feel the difference when I am down or feeling discouraged.  I can feel it if someone near me is full of angry, negative emotions.  We are all energy.  And our energy feeds off other’s energy.  Everything is interrelated.  Its profound to me, and mind-blowing, and gives me infinite faith in life.  It helps me in  my journey every day.  To make better, smarter choices.  To eat better food.  To take care of my body.  To focus my mind on constructive, positive, enriching and nurturing things.

I turned 38 earlier this month.

I’m pretty sure that every member of my family ‘teased’ me about my obsession with numbers at one point or another (this year, and every year …. this month and every month).  But I think I see life like a big, gridded calendar and knowing where everyone lies helps to quiet the never ceasing chaos of my brain.

Here’s the thing.  I’m okay with being 38.  I’m actually better than okay with being 38.  It fits me.  I fit into the grid nicely on December 12 and currently, at the age of 38.  I’ve enjoyed my 30s.  I don’t look my age (thank you Rodan + Fields and not having children) but even if I did, I think I’d be okay at 38.  Every moment in life is a learning moment, something that helps you (hopefully!) become better, more thoughtful, more well-rounded. Something that helps you appreciate where you are at this very moment. 

Today, my mother turns 70.  I’m fairly certain she wouldn’t love me saying that.  Most people don’t (although I routinely say people’s ages as I know them and their relationship to my own age — even if it’s in days, minutes, hours or years).

My mother is the best that seventy combined years has to offer.  She is thoughtful, kind, intelligent, funny, insightful, open, understanding, opinionated, strong … she has a distinct voice not only in my world, but in THE world.  She is measured in her responses, but that doesn’t prevent her from being cutting when she deems it appropriate (or necessary).  She believes in things and stands by them.  She soldiers on through the most unfair, the toughest of odds and she does it with a smile.  Her eyes still sparkle, she still gets dressed up, she still has the delight of a child when something new, or unexpected surprises her.

She looked at me across the dinner table last night, and gazed down at her son, my little brother, seated at the end of the table, and I could see the love and pride in her eyes.  She did an exceptional job raising us — she was the most lovely, most creative, most perfect mother a child could ask for.  She treated us like people (she always said it was because she was not meant to be a mother, but I think it’s because she absolutely was meant to be a mother — our mother).  She taught us, and took us on adventures, and made everything seem interesting and fun.  She encouraged learning, and welcomed us onto her bed at night to read stories (during which she did all the voices).  She made huge sacrifices we didn’t understand and she never burdened us with in order to give us the life we had as children.

As adults she has listened, supported us, allowed us to stretch our wings and both fall and fly.  She has embraced our chosen partners (even dusting off her French to speak to David’s lady in her native tongue).

She is — quite simply — exquisite.

And despite my bizarre obsession with numbers, that’s all they really are.  Just numbers.  They don’t define an age, a person.  They merely track time.

Anyway, today and every day I love my mummy.  My mama bear.  At every age.  At any age.